


Good Big Brother

by Aestheticdenbrough



Series: Oneshots [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adorable Georgie Denbrough, Alive Georgie Denbrough, Caretaking, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Other, Sickfic, Trans Stanley Uris, ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 02:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15305646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aestheticdenbrough/pseuds/Aestheticdenbrough
Summary: Bill babysits Georgie for a few days and his boyfriends end up basically babysitting him.





	Good Big Brother

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this months ago and didn't edit but I didn't wanna waste it even if I didn't want to put more effort into it lol

Bill Denbrough has always had a thing for the rain. He lives for the way the cool drops feel on his skin. His parents were going away for a few days, it would be just him and his brother, Georgie, so he felt particularly in the mood to do reckless things. So when the rain starts it’s a no brainer that he’s going to go out and enjoy it. Bill also needed a win, something good needed to happen and it did. He was grateful, especially after relapsing for the first time in years. He texts his friends about his plans to see if anyone wanted to join his brother and him. They declined and all warned him to wear a jacket and be careful, basically all along the lines of “don’t get sick, dumbass.” But he didn’t, he and Georgie had a great time like they always do. Bill definitely gained his love of rain from his younger brother. 

His parents leave that night for the three day trip for their anniversary. The next day comes and he wakes up early for school and is 100% fine, who’s the dumbass now? He thinks and chuckles to himself. That is, until he hears coughing from the room down the hall. Fuck, that doesn’t sound good, he decides. He rolls out of bed, socked feet sliding across the floor. He pulls on a shirt and goes straight to Georgie’s room. He walks over the the smaller boy, still laying in his bed, ruffling his hair he asks, 

“Not fe-feeling so hot, huh b-bud?” Bill frowns, “You’re wuh-warm,” he comments, already knowing he’ll have to call his kid sibling out of school, as well as himself. 

Georgie just sighs, “Billy, I think I’m sick,” he whines.

“I th-the-think so too,” Bill hates seeing him like this but it’s his job to help, his parents trip is nonrefundable and they deserve a break, he knows it. He ruffles Georgie’s hair one more time before leaving the room to call his school. He tries his best not to stutter, because if he does than the school might think he’s just lying. He speaks how he usually does with people he doesn’t know, slow and measured and thinking completely about every syllable before it leaves his mouth.

Once that is over with he goes into his room to check his phone, he had been up into the early hours of the morning on it so it wasn’t completely charged. Bill scrolls through any messages he missed and lets the group know he won’t be in school, even though he’s not the one sick so they can’t call him a dumbass. The ones who are awake send Georgie well-wishes and wish him luck. He decides against texting his parents. Will only make them worry, he knows, and that’s the last thing he needs. He puts his phone back on the charger and goes downstairs to the kitchen and gets a glass of water, setting it down on the coffee table. Finally he goes back upstairs to his brother, who had already fallen asleep again. He decides it’s not worth waking him up and just scoops him up in his arms, blanket and all, taking him downstairs to the couch since there’s a t.v. with Netflix in the living room. Man, he’s getting too old, 10? It’s like just last week he was 7. He decides as he’s walking down the stairs, slowly as not to misstep. He sits on the couch, after setting his brother down on the other end, the younger one is just now waking up from being jostled. 

“H-hey you oh-okay?” Bill notices him stirring. 

Georgie just responds by coughing, not into his hand or elbow, which causes Bill to cringe, and Georgie humming a sound of discontent.

“I’m so-sorry you d-don’t feel greh-great b-bud,” worry creases his forehead, he has always been protective and tries to help but now he doesn’t know how. He feels like he should know what to do, I’m supposed to be the older sibling, the one who always knows how to make it better. He snaps out of his head when he notices Georgie inching across the couch to be in his lap, curled into fetal position with his head on Bill’s chest. “Cuh-comfy?” Bill laughs, even though he knows he missed this, when his brother was younger and more affectionate, When he wasn’t actually growing up, he thinks. 

Georgie definitely isn’t asleep, he knows this, Bill hands the remote to him, since he is the one who deserves the extra privilege of choosing, I’ll change it when he falls asleep, Bill thinks. He holds back a sound of knowing but also frustration when Georgie settles on a christmas movie, it’s early November but he knew that he would choose something light-hearted like that. Georgie does eventually fall asleep, Bill realizes that he didn’t give him medication of any sort and that would have been a good idea but he would rather not wake his finally sleeping brother. He just clicks whatever Netflix suggests whenever one movie ends, knowing that if he played a show he liked such as Stranger Things his brother would wake up and be afraid. He didn’t want to do that for sure. His phone was still in his room, so he couldn’t do much but just watch whatever and be left to his own devices. 

Being left to his own thoughts was never pleasant, he tends to think too much. Usually if his mind made it to this place he’d text his friends, but he couldn’t move out from under Georgie, not only because he was asleep, but also because his brother is so much heavier than he used to be. 

Around six in the evening, after laying there long enough for every part of his body to have fallen asleep, he shakes his brother awake. He knows he should eat something but he also knows that he would burn down the house if he tried to make something. He opts to get his phone from upstairs and order a pizza, something he planned to do when his parents were away anyways. While he waits for the delivery man he finally gets to texting his friends back, the group chat was crazy and that was to be expected, Bill often kept his friends grounded and rational even if he can’t do that for himself. Mike asked to come over, he could definitely use company. Bill tells him that it would be great if he could come over, if he didn’t mind being exposed to “little brother germs” which he says he doesn’t. When Mike asks if he should get anything on the way Bill remembers the empty medicine cabinet, so he quickly types back, “children’s Nyquil or something because I’m just now realizing we have absolutely nothing helpful XD”.

The pizza delivery man arrives shortly after the conversation.Bill takes the box and hands the man his payment. “K-keep the change,” he says. his job must be hard, it’s dark out already and it’s cold, definitely not the kind of working conditions I’d want to work with.

He adjusts his flyaway hair before opening the door again, this time for Mike, who immediately pulls him into a hug. This makes him feel safe. “Hey Billy,” Mike smiles, and Bill just presses his face to Mike’s chest in response. “nice to see you too,” Mike chuckles. 

“Hu-how was school, a buh-bad Monday oh-or a good one?” Bill asks as he leads Mike past the Georgie sized lump on the couch to the kitchen. Mike sets down a Walgreens bag on the counter, “It was alright, missed having you there though,” Bill smiles at Mike’s warm expression, the one he always wants to be around. 

Bill gets out three plates and puts a few slices of the pizza on each, hoping Georgie will accept it. He goes to the living room and gently wakes him, “h-hey, d-dinner.” The smaller one responds slowly, moving sluggishly to the kitchen table. 

“Heya sunshine,” Mike chuckles at the demeanor Georgie has that contradicts his usual one, “How ya feeling?” he asks, sitting next to Bill, grabbing his hand under the table inconspicuously.  
“I’m okay,” Georgie starts to wake up more, he seems better than he was this morning, Bill is silently grateful for that. At least he knows he didn’t mess up and make it worse than before.  
“D-did I miss anything i-important at school the-that you could t-tell muh-me about?” Bill turns to Mike.

“Not really, nobody ever gets much done on Mondays anyway,” Mike looks back at Bill, even without doing anything Bill can see the love in his eyes. Georgie probably knows that they’re dating, based on the situation last time, with Stan and the video games and the way they looked at each other.

They eat mostly quietly, not awkward. Just quiet. It was nice. When they finish, Bill has Georgie go back to bed, in his own room this time. “I-I-I know yuh-you slept all duh-day, b-but you n-need it,” he says when the littler one complains. When he’s gotten Georgie comfortable, and told him a story like he sometimes wants, Bill can finally return downstairs to Mike. 

The boys go back to the living room, Mike laying sideways on the couch and Bill on top of him. Legs intertwined, this was also nice, just like the silence in the kitchen. Like he thought about earlier, Bill and Mike decide on Stranger Things, it would practically the millionth time they watched it. The two were content, it makes the day automatically better to have Mike here, Bill decides. They fall asleep late that night, still cuddling on the couch. 

When he wakes up, Bill has a killer crick in his neck, It may have been romantic, but the couch was not the best place to sleep. He shifts slowly, trying to get up without disrupting his still sleeping boyfriend. He knows he has school today and he knows Georgie should be good to go to school as well, which comes as a relief. He ends up failing to let Mike stay asleep.

“Billy?” he mumbles when he realizes his boyfriend has disappeared. 

“I’m just guh-going to muh-make coffee, and guh-get ready,” he whispers, he doesn’t know why he’s whispering but it felt like the best to do.

He wanders into the kitchen and starts the coffee maker and puts waffles in the toaster for Georgie at least. Bill has never been a breakfast person. When the waffles jump out with a pop! he throws some in for Mike too, hoping to be a good host. 

After he already has things set up on the table Mike meanders into the kitchen, “Morning,” Mike hugs him from behind, becoming a warm presence. “H-hey,” Bill utters with a smile, voice rough from sleep. “I muh-made waffles i-i-if you want eh-en-any.”

Mike slowly detaches himself from Bill and slides into a chair at the table, “thank you, my love,” a dark shade of pink spreads across Bill’s face, the thing that Mike’s affection almost always did to him. “You’re so cute when you turn so red,” Mike laughs, Bill looks down at the ground, flushing nearly up to his ears. Grabbing a mug, he pours himself a cup of coffee,

“Nuh uh,” he responds, “d-do you want co-coffee?” he asks, gesturing to the coffee maker.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Mike responds, then the two sit and sip their coffee in silence, not an uncomfortable one though. They finish up and get ready for school, Mike thought ahead and had brought clothes for the day. 

Bill goes upstairs to wake Georgie, who definitely seems better off than yesterday. _Probably because I made him sleep so much, that and the fact that I pumped him full of medicine. Maybe I really did do something right_ , Billy thinks. Georgie begrudgingly gets ready, eating one of his two waffles. Bill gets Georgie on the bus to go to school, telling him to have a good day and that if he feels worse again to call him and he’d pick him up. 

“Yuh-you think he’ll bb-be-be okay?” Bill asks Mike when he walks back in.

“Yeah, he’s still sick but doesn’t have a fever anymore, he may feel bad but it’s not an emergency, you don’t need to worry,” Mike responds logically. 

“B-buh he sounded b-bad,” he thinks back to before he left, he winced at how much it sounded like his throat hurt.

“I promise he’ll be fine, we don’t want to be late for school do we?” Mike pulls Bill into a hug, then leading him back near the door. 

The cool air stings his face but is refreshing. “I h-have a test in s-s-psych tomorrow, i-it’s g-going to suck,” he laughs, “muh-miss. Wood i-is really t-tough.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Mike smiles, interlacing his fingers with Bill’s, “You’re good in that class, and you understand the material better than most of the other students do,” he reassures.

“Are y-you kiddi-ng? Sh-she makes us p-pr-present all the t-time, I duh-don’t appresh-appreciate th-that,” he smiles and slides into his car, starting it and cursing at the broken heater in it. “S-sorry I h-haven’t gotten that f-fixed yet.”

“It’s alright, I really don’t mind cooler temperatures actually,” mike reassures him. Bill doesn’t mind them either, simply for the reason that nobody questions his clothing choices.

Bill turns on his music, his friends always comment on the playlist he has. It’s so long that none of them have ever heard the same song twice, and he gives them rides often. The first song to come on being “Ode To Sleep” by Twenty One Pilots. At this point Bill knows all the words, and can recite them perfectly. It’s different to hear him rap than it is to hear him talk, since it’s rehearsed and doesn’t have the same pressure.

“Enjoyed the-the-the show?” Bill asks sarcastically as he pulls into his parking lot at school.

“Definitely,” Mike laughs, opening his car door and stepping back into the cool air. 

Bill climbs out of his seat, locking his car. He walks over to Mike’s side and grabs his hand again. They both smile and walk into school. Nearly everyone is there already, seeing as the bell was to ring in seven minutes. 

“There’s the lovebirds,” Beverly jokes.

Stan walks over to them, grabbing Bill’s other hand. Beverly mimed a gag and Ben went “aw,”. Bill looks down but smiles, _this is how it all should be he thinks._

“D-do you g-guys want t-t-to go to the library a-after school?” he asks, knowing he has studying to do but would rather not do it alone. In response he receives a chorus of yeses and sures, except from Ben who had plans. 

“I’ll ask Richie when he actually shows up,” Eddie assures, “we all know that he’s always late.” he rolls his eyes playfully. 

“H-he’ll prob-probably want to g-go t-to see you,” Bill chuckles, besides he and Mike and Stan, Eddie and Richie were probably the cutest couple he knew. 

The bell rings for homeroom and the group has to separate, although Bill and Mike and Stan kept holding hands while walking each other to class. Bill’s first class was the farthest so once he dropped his boyfriends off at their classes he walked to his own class at the end of the hallway. His first class is English where he’s been working on a paper, he missed a work day which really sucks because he probably could have gotten a lot done, he’s already behind this week and it’s only Tuesday. He works through the entire hour as efficiently as he can without worrying about anything else. The bell finally releases him from class to math, ew pre-calc is honestly the worst, he thinks. The entire day is the same, playing catch up in what he missed. 

Lunch finally comes around, the entire gang always hangs around Richie’s truck during lunch. He heads to the door, tugging at the sleeves of his sweatshirt just to be sure as he shivers in the cool November air. He sees most of the group already there and smiles to them.

“Hey g-guys,” he walks over to them.

Bev and Richie are each smoking a cigarette. Eddie sitting with his legs hanging off the bed of the truck. Mike is eating Baked Lays chips and leaning against the door of the truck with his arm around Stan, who is drinking a bottled apple juice. Bill leans against the truck next to his boyfriends, earning a kiss on the cheek from Mike and a warm smile from Stan. 

“S-soon we might need t-to eat in-inside,” he comments, the fact that his breath is visible proves the point.

“A little cold never hurt anybody,” Mike laughs, he definitely had the best tolerance to temperature of them all.

“I personally agree with Bill, it’s almost winter winter,” Stan supplies.

Bill smiles at Stan. He zones out a bit, usually he can keep up mentally but he is tired and has a headache, _I probably should have slept_ , he thinks to himself, noting to hopefully sleep more tonight, _if I don’t have too much homework._

“Earth to Billiam?” Bev jokes.

Bill shakes his head, “w-h-what?” He snaps back to reality. 

“Lunch is almost over, and you haven’t eaten, dummy,” she laughs at his worried expression.

“Oh-oh I’m g-good, I w-was gonna e-eat during st-studyh-hall after g-gym,” he explains.

“I.e. he forgot to eat and he’s making plans to do it later,” Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes, “I swear you’re almost as bad as Richie,” he pats him on the shoulder.

“So-sorry, deep i-in thought th-that’s all,” he fiddles with the edge of his sweatshirt and looks down. 

“You’ve been so quiet lately, look alive Big Bill!” Richie laughs and playfully wacks Bill on the arm, Bill holds back a wince in pain, hoping that it wouldn’t bleed or anything. 

“I-I’m going inside, oh-okay?” Bill shivers.

“I’ll follow, see you guys later,” Stan follows, he’s been worried about his boyfriend recently and doesn’t want to leave him to be on his own.

Bill grabs Stan’s hand in his own subconsciously, leaning against him as he walked.

“You tired?” Stan basically questions the obvious. 

Bill chuckles, “yeah,” he sighs, “d-didn’t sleep th-that great last n-night,” he admits. 

“You really need to work on that, okay? I really worry about you,” Stan places a small kiss on Bill’s cheek, which then gets warm. 

Bill smiles with tight lips, “I-i’ll be okay, s-s-seriously,” Bill tries to assure his anxious partner, ruffling his curls. There’s the smile I like so much, Bill thinks.

The bell rings, warning them that they have to go to their next class, Bill has gym. He changes into the school required gym clothes, a shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. He changes in the bathroom today, and slips his sweatshirt on before he walks out to the gym. Gym scares Bill, usually he’s good at it but he’s regretting that he’ll have to mind his sleeves. His teacher, Mr. Clive, (What kind of teacher goes by their first name when their name is Clive?) claims that even though it’s nearly freezing, they can handle one more gym class outside. They’re told to pick partners, Bill immediately goes for Ben, the only other loser in his gym class. Ben smiles at him, he’s grateful every time Bill partners up with him, even though it’s always been that way. The class is lead outside to the tennis courts, seeing as they are in the tennis unit. For the third time that day, his face is hit with the cool air. 

When they play, Bill realizes that Ben is actually really good at tennis, he has excellent aim. Bill usually has good aim, he plays baseball for goodness sake. Today he can’t focus, the temperature was making his nose run and it was getting increasingly irritating. Ugh, he thinks, this is gross and distracting. Finally Mr. Clive tells them to clean up the equipment and change back into their normal clothes. 

On the way back to the locker room Ben walks next to Bill, talking about some cool poetry he found. Bill honestly usually loves hearing about it but he’s spacing out again.

“Billy? Hey you okay?” Ben taps his shoulder with a crease in his brow. 

“Ye,” Bill clears his throat, “yeah,” he offers a distracted smile. “J-just super t-tired,” he forces another awkward smile.

“Billy, you really have to take care of yourself more,” Ben sighs, grabbing a drink of water before walking into the locker room. 

Bill once again changes in the bathroom, out of sight. He and Ben leave the locker room together, since Ben’s next class is near Bill’s study hall. They say their goodbyes and part ways at their classrooms. Bill smiles as he walks into his study hall, the only hour he has with Stan. Like always, Stan sits at a table in back, reading out of his textbook. Bill walks over, still smiling,

“Hey,” he taps Stan’s shoulder. He slides his backpack off his shoulder and sits next to him. 

“Hey,” Stan looks up from his work to smile at Bill. “You’re still all sweaty from gym, gross,” Stan jokes, writing out another equation in his notebook.

Bill laughs, running his hand through his own hair, which he had forgotten to fix in the locker room. “W-what are you wor-working on?” Bill changes the subject as he gets out his laptop.

“Just pre-calc,” Stan talks while he solves the problem on the paper.

“O-oh,” Bill responds awkwardly, and signs into the computer, “I-I’m going to w-work on my Scolast-lastic entry th-thing,” Bill smiles

Bill gets ready to write and takes a deep breath to focus himself but it catches in his throat and he starts choking. Out of habit he immediately shoves his elbow to his face and tries to catch his breath.

“You okay?” Stan looks up for the first time since he got there, “Do you need water?” he gestures to the water bottle in the side pocket in his backpack. 

Bill shakes his head no, after it stops, “ow,” is the only reaction he can supply. Stan grabs his hand and continues his homework with the other. Bill blushes, the subtle affection was always his favorite. “You sure you’re okay?” Stan asks.

“Yes I-I’m fine,” Bill assures and focuses his attention back to his story. Stan looks back to his homework as well and they spend the rest of the hour somewhat productively. The bell rings and they pick up quickly, exchanging kisses on the cheeks and rushing to their next classes. Bill has psych, a class he has a love-hate relationship with.

He walks in and slides into his chair, his head hurts worse than it had earlier. He puts his head on his desk for a moment before the bell rings. The shriek of the bell brings his begrudgingly lifting his head and rubbing his temples. The majority of the hour is spent taking notes which Bill is good at, right as the final bell rings Bill hears Mrs. Wood call out “and don’t forget that you have a test tomorrow!” He collects his stuff before leaving the room, meeting Mike at his locker where he and Stan are already standing. Bill leans against the locker next his.

“H-hey,” he says quietly.

Mike immediately pulls him over with a hand on his back and Stan grabs his hand. Bill smiles, these two always put him in a good mood. “I-if you n-need a ride y-you gotta come n-now, I-i-i-i have to pick up G-g-georgie today,” Bill grabs Mike’s hand.

The three chat and walk outside to where Bill is parked, Bill sits in the driver’s seat, Stan in the passenger’s side and Mike in the back. The song Mr. Brightside by the Killers is the first song his Spotify shuffles to, a song Bill has always liked. It wasn’t mike or Stan’s style, but they watch Bill sing along with a smile. Bill’s voice cuts out around the longer notes and he just stops singing in exchange for humming.

“Are you alright?” Mike asks from his place in the back, “That sounded off,” he adds.

“I-it’s fine I just s-sing a lot s-so my voice is t-tired,” Bill smiles warmly, keeping his eye on the road and turning into the driveway of Georgie’s school. 

He pulls into the parent pick-up line and waits for Georgie. Georgie comes out of the school talking to a girl with blonde hair and shiny brown eyes. He sees the car and bounds over to them.

“Hey Billy!” Georgie smiles and climbs into his seat, “Oh and hey Mike and Stan!” he adds, coughing into his elbow like his brother taught him. 

“Do you ever stop being a ball of energy?” Mike laughs.

Georgie just smiles in response, putting his bag on the floor.

Bill starts the car again and steers out of the parking lot, “G-georgie, you’re going t-to Emma’s right?” Bill refers to a friend of his that he thinks Georgie had plans with.

“Yeah, we’re gonna play on her trampoline!” Georgie says excitedly. 

Bill smiles, “Sounds f-fun. So I’m dr-dropping you off there r-right now?”

Georgie nods, “Yeah, and I need to be picked up at seven,” he informs.

Bill nods and smiles, “O-okay, I th-think I remember w-where Emma lives,” he chuckles nervously.

 

He only makes one wrong turn on the way to Emma’s, dropping Georgie off. He reminds him to behave and use his manors and to call him if anything goes wrong. As he does this his boyfriends just sit quietly, smiling at how much he cares about his brother. When he turns back to them they’re both still smiling.

“What?” he asks with a shy smile.

“Nothing,” both boys respond, looking to each other with blissful grins, communicating with their facial expressions.

Bill starts the car yet again, “y-you guys are coming t-t-to the library with m-me later right?” he asks as he turns out.

“Yeah,” Mike offers a warm smile, and Stan adds that he’ll definitely be leaving when Bill does. Bill drops the two off at home since he needs to get some cleaning done at home before he goes to do some studying at the library.

Bill gets to the library at four in the afternoon, immediately feeling the calmness of the library when he pushes open the door. He walks to the fiction section to pick something to read. Eddie comes up behind him, tapping him gently on the shoulder. Bill jumps at the unexpected touch.

“H-hey Edwardo,” he finally says in a hoarser voice than he expected.

“You okay, Billy?” Eddie studies Bill’s face.

Bill clears his throat, “y-yeah I’m all good,” he smiles and selects the book, walking to his table in the back.

He sits and looks at his book, He’s rereading “Of Mice and Men” for English. He opens the book. He rubs the heels of his hands on his eyes due to the headache he just can’t seem to shake. Eddie gives him another look of concern. 

“You sure you’re okay man?” Eddie looks straight at him.

Bill coughs lightly into his shoulder. “Y-yeah I’m g-good,” he reaches for the water bottle in his backpack.

Eddie sits in the seat across from Bill and pulls his math homework out of his backpack, which looks like it probably weighs more than him. Bill drinks his water, feeling it rush to his head, Geez I’m a dumbass for letting myself get that dehydrated, that’s probably why I feel so crappy right now and why my throat is so dry, he accuses himself. 

Finally Richie walks over, sitting in the seat next to Eddie, “Hiya Eds! Billiam,” he nods in Bill’s direction.

Bill takes the hint that Richie was more interested in his boyfriend at that point and turns back to his book, grumbling something about how he forgot how slow burn the story was. Richie plants a kiss on Eddie’s cheek and then on his mouth. It’s taken Eddie months of dating to get used to this kind of behavior but at this point he accepts, and maybe even enjoys it. Bill sighs, it’s always like this when it was a smaller group and only them, to be fair all the losers had a thing for PDA so he couldn’t judge them. He’s secretly glad that at least Richie wasn’t being as loud as usual, since he still has a headache. Bill gets to page 37 or so by the time Stan gets there, silently pushing his chair next to Bill’s and sitting next to him.

“Hey,” Stan says quietly with a soft smile.

Bill forces a smile back at his boyfriend and closes his book, “hey,” the words bring the same rough voice from earlier and a frustrated sigh.

Stan frowns and puts an arm around Bill, pulling his body to his own. Bill melts into his boyfriend, comforted by his steady breathing. Bill notices though, Stan’s breathing is not as deep when he’s binding, he remembers that it’s not as bad as it used to be before he had a proper binder but it still brings him worry.

“Stop worrying about me and worry about yourself,” Stan basically read his mind and was stroking his shoulder with his thumb in a comforting fashion.

Bill sighs and turns sharply away from Stan to cough harshly into his elbow, “That doesn’t sound good,” Stan says once he returns himself to being pressed up against Stan’s side.

“‘M fine, j-just deh-hydrated and oh-overtired,” Bill assures.

“No, you sound like you’re getting sick,” Stan says sternly, “You really need to take better care of yourself you know, I worry about you, Bill.”

“I’m f-fineeee,” he emphasizes, pushing his face up against Stan’s chest.

“You should go home, Bill,” Stan sighs, holding Bill in his arms.

Richie and Eddie hadn’t been paying attention and they look over, “That’s fucking precious,” Eddie whispers, seeing them cuddling. Stan glares at him out of embarrassment since he isn’t usually the PDA type, he prefers to be lovey-dovey when it’s just he and Bill and Mike. 

“I’m f-fine, I d-don’t wanna go h-home,” Bill mumbles through a rough voice, wincing at the feeling and sound, which contradicts his previous statement. Bill presses his hands to his head again with a near whimper. Stan brings a hand to Bill’s head, running his fingers through his silky hair. Bill leans into the touch, finding comfort in it.

“At least take something? Do you have anything at home?” Stan rationalizes. 

“Child st-strength stuff f-for G-georgie,” Bill says plainly. Eddie takes notice of the conversation, frowning in concern again.

“I knew you didn’t seem so well,” he says sternly, “I keep Tylenol in my bag, you should take some, Bill,” the way Eddie said it was not a suggestion. Bill shakes his head and groans. “Bill,” Eddie says again, leaving no room for argument. Bill separates from Stan, looking at Eddie with an expression of aggravation. Eddie drags his backpack to his side and opens a small pocket in the front, grabbing a bottle of Tylenol. He sets it on the table and slides it over to Bill. He gets a little antsy in his seat, he hasn’t fully gotten over his intense fear of germs but he wants to try for the sake of his friend.

Bill turns away to cough again, “Ow,” is all he can muster before leaning into Stan again. Stan frowns and rubs Bill’s hair again.

“Does- does he seem warm to you?” Eddie looks to Stan.

“Just a little,” Stan says, “But it’s enough to notice.” 

Richie has been sitting quietly this whole time, he doesn’t want to get in the way and he doesn’t want to hurt Bill’s head more. He cares enough to try his best. Bill notices this and offers him a small smile to show his appreciation. Richie returns a worried smile. This happens too often, Richie thinks, He really needs to take care of himself so he won’t be sick all the time.

Eddie crouches next to Bill’s chair, putting the back of his hand to Bill’s cheek, “Not so bad, but still probably above normal, dude, you should really go home.” Eddie stands up, picking up the untouched medicine bottle and opening it himself. He pours out two pills, then pouring out a third when he remembers that Bill always complains that two aren’t good enough. Eddie grasps Bill’s wrist, turning it over and pressing the pills into his hands. “You gotta take them.”

Bill peels away from Stan’s side to grab the pills and his water, taking them all in one go and with a big drink of water, making a face, “H-hurts to swallow,” he explains. Stan is still frowning and pulls Bill back to him, Bill is nearly in his lap at this point but neither of them mind. Bill eventually moves away on his own accord, after almost falling asleep.

“I d-don’t want you t-to catch this,” He sighs, which just makes him cough again.

“I probably will anyways,” Stan says plainly, pulling Bill back without a protest. “You really should go home though, babe.”

“I c-came to study, and h-haven’t gotten much of th-that done,” Bill complains. He moves so that he can at least see his book on the table.

“Bill, you’re obviously are miserable and you have a fever,” Stan rubs Bill’s arm in effort to be a comforting presence. “You do well in school and studying, you deserve to go home. You overwork yourself and it takes it’s toll on you.”

Just then Beverly walks over, “Sorry I’m late, Mike says he’s not able to come actually, some sort of sheep issue,” she shakes her head jokingly. She notices Bill, “Why so solemn Big Bill?”

“He’s sick, like really sick, and he won’t go home!” Eddie rambles off, Bev shakes her head and sighs.

“He was fine earlier?” Beverly asks.

“Well sometimes things happen fast!” Richie whispers loudly, remembering not to shout because he’s in a library.

Bill just groans in frustration, “I’m f-f-fine calm down.” He moves away from Stan in favor of putting his head on the table. “It’s j-just a c-cold shut th-the fuck up.”

Stan puts a hand on Bill’s back, knowing that even if he doesn’t say it, he always wants to be touched when he isn’t feeling well. Bill hums a noise of half distress but half comfort. He coughs again, it’s really starting to irritate him. Beverly frowns.

 

“Billy? No offense but you sound bad,” she sits across from him at the table, reaching her hand and grabbing his.

“D-do you guys just not w-want me around?” Bill says, almost tearful.

“No! Dude we just want you to take care of yourself for once!” Richie stage whispers. 

“Bill, you’re going home,” Stan says in the same Eddie-no-further-discussion voice. 

Bill sits up, rubbing his head and grabbing his water. He drinks some before speaking.

“F-f-fine,” he sighs, covering his mouth when that causes him to cough again. Stan stands, putting a hand out to Bill who takes it. He slowly stands up and Stan puts an arm around his middle. 

Stan holds Bill close and leads him out the doors to the parking lot. Both boys shiver under the biting early-winter air. Bill leads Stan to his car and slides into the driver’s seat.

“You sure you’re good to drive?” Stan asks nervously, “I don’t want you to hurt your head more or like not pay attention to the road,” Stan rambles off before Bill even has time to turn the key and start the car. 

Bill prepares himself by taking a deep breathe carefully, the cool air burned his throat but he holds his breath because he doesn’t want to cough in the car. Stan notices and frowns.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, let me drive you home?” Stan offers and Bill reluctantly nods his head, it’s not preferable but it’s the best option. 

Bill switches sides with Stan wordlessly. Stan worries at how compliant Bill is, usually it takes longer to wear him down enough to take care of him. It was only around six in the evening and he shouldn’t be so tired.

“You’re definitely overworking yourself,” Stan continued to talk at Bill who seemed to be set on being silent.

Bill was slouching in his seat with his head against the window. It’s cold, it feels nice, he thinks but doesn’t say out loud. He closes his eyes, he wants to pretend this wasn’t happening. He doesn’t feel good and he also doesn’t like feeling weak or accepting help. He can’t breathe through his nose but through his mouth hurts his throat. He huffs in frustration.

Stan looks over briefly, “You okay?” concern laces his voice.

“Ye-,” Bill starts but is cut off by the burning feeling in this throat, “Actually n-no,” he whispers, near inaudible.

Stan frowns, “admitting defeat already? That’s not like you.”

“L-life itself has b-been tough,” little does Stan know the extent of what he means.

Stan arrives at Bill’s house, it feels weird to drive Bill’s car. He gets out of the car, walking around to the other side and opens Bill’s door, reaching his hand to him. Bill takes Stan grabs Stan’s hand and stands up. 

“I f-feel like shit honestly,” Bill croaks, “B-but I gotta p-p-pick up Georgie in h-half an hour,” he remembers and opens his eyes wide.

Stan rubs his back while silently guiding him to the Denbrough’s door, unlocking it with his key. He drags Bill to the living room and sits on the couch, pulling Bill into his lap. 

“You’re not going anywhere, I’m afraid,” Stan says somewhat jokingly, words still holding the promised weight. 

Bill leans back into Stan’s chest, “s-someonde has to get himb,” he argues, sitting in a different position making him sound worse than before.

“Bill,” Stan says sternly, “I’ll get him, you’re staying here,” he runs his hand through Bill’s hair. “I should call Eddie or something, I don’t trust you to take care of yourself but I wouldn’t be good at it either.”

Bill grunts in frustration, “M-my head doesn’t e-even hurt that bad anym-more,” he argues, glad for the Tylenol Eddie had given him.

“I’m not letting you ignore yourself for other people anymore, that’s when you end up feeling really bad,” Stan massages his fingers through his hair, knowing he likes that because he leans into the touch.

“I already f-feel bad,” Bill moves away from Stan to cough more into his elbow, “th-that burnds,” he croaks and hides in Stan’s chest, groaning again.

“And I’m sorry about that, I wish I could make it better,” Stan sighs, going back to rubbing Bill’s hair once he returns to his spot pressed against him.

“Y-you do, just by bei’g here,” he presses his head to where Stan’s heart is, finding a grounding comfort in it’s beat.

“You sound like hell, Bill,” Stan comments on the hoarseness and congestion lacing his voice, “I should go pick up Georgie for you, are you going to be okay?” Stan kisses the top of Bills head.

“Yeah,” He sighs, breath shaking.

Stan moves himself out from behind Bill without making the latter also stand. He pushes Bill’s shoulder lightly to make him lay down. Bill shivers from the loss of a warm figure behind him so Stan grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over Bill, who is laying on his stomach at this point. Stan walks over and pulls Bill’s shoes off his feet, knowing that they wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep in. Stan speaks quietly again.

“Hey, hey,” He whispers and nudges Bill gently, “Laying on your side is better for your chest, you need to breathe.” 

Bill turns his body so that his stomach is facing the back of the couch, hiding his face in the pillows for comfort. Stan sighs, it’s close enough to the position he wanted him in anyways and he doesn’t want to move him again.

“I’ll be back after I get your brother okay?” Bill nods slowly from his spot and hums a sound of agreement.

Stan slides out the door, feeling weird about getting in Bill’s car to drive, especially without Bill even present. Bill never let anyone drive his car, it’s too important to him. Silver, Bill named the car after his beloved childhood bicycle. He gets in the driver’s seat and buckles. He turns the key that he had left in its spot and the engine roars to life. He pulls out of the driveway and drives to the address written sloppily on a torn slip of paper. 

He pulls up to Emma’s house, where Georgie and her were already waiting for Bill. Georgie sees the car and that the passenger seat was empty and clamors into it.

“Where’s Billy?” Georgie asks cautiously and buckles his seatbelt.

“Your brother doesn’t feel good, probably same thing you had,” Stan explains as he pulls out of the driveway and drives down the road.

Georgie frowns, “I hope he feels better soon, I felt really bad,” Georgie says empathetically. “I had a high fever for a while,” Georgie remembers, “That hurt.”

Stan frowns, “Yeah that tends to happen,” he cracks a smile for the sake of Georgie.

He drive the way back to the Denbrough household, taking the car key inside with him this time. Georgie runs ahead to his room with his backpack to finish his homework. Stan takes off his coat and hangs it up, knowing he might stay for a while this time. He walks back to the living room, Bill appears to be the same lump of blankets he was before. At first Stan almost thinks he’s asleep, until he starts coughing again and he hears a mumbled “Ow.”

“Oh, Bill,” Stan sighs worriedly and rushes to the couch, leaning against the back and trying to get a look at Bill’s face. 

He puts his hand on Bill’s chin, moving his head gently to show flushed cheeks. He frowns, he bites his lip while he thinks of what to do, deciding to go get a thermometer. As he walks up the stairs he whispers a quick “be right back” to Bill. He gets the thermometer and shuffles back down the stairs to Bill, who, as expected, has not moved. He sits on the open part of the couch, coaxing Bill into a sitting position despite the grogginess. 

“I’m tired,” Bill complains, “Just l-let me sleep it off already?” 

“Sorry, I just need to make sure it’s not too bad, okay?” Stan feels a pang of guilt in his chest but then remembering it was for the best.

He slides the thermometer under Bill’s tongue, rubbing his shoulder as he waits for a beep. When he hears the familiar sound he pulls it out slowly and Bill leans his head on Stan’s shoulder. 

Stan studies the number, “One-oh-two,” He reads off slowly, rubbing Bill’s head subconsciously, “That’s pretty high sweetheart,” his worry makes the pet name roll off of his tongue as if it had so many times before. Stan thinks for a while, “You’ll be more comfortable in your bed,” he decides and helps Bill up.

He leads the tired boy up the stairs, holding his clammy hand in his own even though it was somewhat gross to him. He pulls Bill all the way to his bedroom, motioning for him to sit on the bed while he went to Bill’s pajama drawer. He grabs a pair of joggers and a thin white t-shirt and tosses them to Bill.

Bill looks to Stan with a panicked look on his face, “I cand’t w-wear that,” he croaks, hoping Stan doesn’t get upset.

“You need to change Bill, the sweatshirt and skinny jeans have got to be making you overheat,” he replies plainly.

Bill looks to him anxiously, _Stan didn’t know, Stan couldn’t know_ , is all Bill could think. Stan gives him a stern look and he reluctantly pulls off his jeans and pulls on the pajama pants. He looks at the shirt anxiously, before starting to feel too warm again instead of shivering. He pulls off the sweatshirt slowly, revealing cuts down his arms. Bill immediately felt shameful even as Stan wasn’t looking back yet since he had moved on to looking through Bill’s socks. Bill peels off a slightly sweaty shirt and pulls on the cool white one, appreciating the feeling at least. He still looks at his arms in a disgusted panic.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles even before Stan looks back.

Stan turns to face Bill, who looked near tears and was about to ask why before his gaze hit his arms. He brings his hand to his mouth in shock.

“Bill….” he trails off, “I thought you stopped that in middle school.”

“H-how did you evend kn-know then?” Bill adopts a perplexed look.

“When you didn’t take off your sweatshirt, like ever,” Stan says as if it had been obvious, grabbing a pair of thick socks from Bill’s drawer and sitting next to him on the bed. He traces his finger over a few of the deep marks. He elects to move on. “C’mon, you’re sick and that’s what we’re going to focus on, okay? I’m gonna go see what you have in the medicine cabinet that could help.”

Stan goes to the bathroom and opens the mirrored cabinet to look for any medication that could help. Just like Bill said, all child strength, Stan thinks with frustration, it’s not as helpful that way. He grabs Ibuprofen and Vicks Vapo-Rub because he thinks they’ll be the most useful. He reads the labels as he walks back to Bill’s room and sits back on the bed next to him. 

He puts the Ibuprofen on the bedside table, “I grabbed this, your chest sounds really bad so I thought it would help,” he explains and gestures to the Vicks. As if on cue, Bill coughs into his elbow again, to the side opposite to Stan, at least he has manors if he’s going to refuse much help.

“C’mon, Bill,” Stan says, motioning for Bill to take his shirt back off.

Bill shivers and slides off his shirt while Stan unscrews the lid of the small jar. The strong smell was immediately evident, Stan wrinkles his nose at the intensity. Bill’s face scrunches up and he stifles a sneeze into his elbow.

“Bill!” Stan scolds, “If you’ve ever listened to Eddie at all, you’d know that’s really bad for you, if you don’t burst your eardrums it’ll at least make your headache come back with a vengeance,” Stan rambles off.

Bill sighs, rubbing his head, “too l-late,” he leans on Stan, still shirtless.

Stan also sighs, he starts rubbing the Vicks on Bill’s chest awkwardly. Bill is more muscular than you’d think when you just see him. He has the beginnings of abs and everything. Right now Stan sees all of this when he usually doesn’t get to, but he focuses on why he’s doing this. Bill sniffles and Stan cringes, not a sound he likes. He’s not scared of germs and illness like Eddie but he is quite disgusted by them most of the time. Bill notices Stan’s reaction and looks down.

“S-sorry,” Bill says quietly.

“No, it’s okay, it’s not your fault at all, I want to help,” Stan says assuredly.

Stan finishes rubbing it on Bill’s chest and tells him to put his shirt back on, Bill obeys gladly. Bill crawls under his covers and curls into a ball. Stan sits on the edge of Bill’s bed, Bill’s back to him. He runs his fingers through his hair delicately. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out.

 _Text message received at 7:15 p.m.  
Mom: Stanley, you need to be home soon, curfew is at 7:45 remember xoxo_

Stan frowns, realizing he’d have to leave his boyfriend like this. He’s at least glad he’s gotten him comfortable and almost asleep.

“Hey Bill?” Stan whispers, Bill mumbles something unintelligible, “I have to go home now, Bill,”  
Bill makes a whining sound and turns to him making grabby hands in his direction. Stan feels his heart break a little, “I’m sorry Billy, I really do have to go, my mom would get upset,” Stan says, feeling guilty.

Bill curls tighter into a ball and sniffles, Stan doesn’t know if it’s because he’s sick or because he’s going to get emotional, Stan reaches over and kisses his warm cheek before standing. “I love you,” he says before walking to the door, hovering there for a moment before going to Georgie’s room.

“Hey George?” Stan asked the boy who was reading a book in his bed.

The boy looked up, “Yeah Stan?” his voice was still gone from him being sick.

“Can you try to get Bill to stay home from school tomorrow? He seems pretty sick and I’m worried,” he asks the young boy hesitantly.

“I can try,” Georgie puts emphasis on the word ‘try’, and Stan nods.

“Feel better,” he says to Georgie, glad he seems mostly okay after a day of rest, hoping Bill will be the same in the same amount of time.

“Thanks Stan,” Georgie smiles and waves goodbye.

Stan grabs his shoes and coat, pulling them on quickly and starting the walk home. It takes a little over ten minutes to walk home because he’s rushing to make curfew. He gets home five minutes before, he walks in and takes off his shoes and coat. He calls to his mom to tell her he’s home and goes upstairs and takes a shower and takes two vitamin C tablets, just in case. After he has taken the tablets and puts on his pajamas he finally falls asleep.

The next morning Bill wakes to his alarm at 5:30 in the morning as always. He sits up quickly, already causing his chest to rattle painfully. He still gets out of bed, opting to take a hot shower to help. He gets in the shower, he already feels better off with the steam. He gets out of the shower and gets dressed, a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. Usually he put more effort into his appearance but today he just wanted to be comfortable. He takes three painkillers for the ache in his muscles, washing them down with some lukewarm water on his bedside table, probably left there cold last night. He goes and wakes Georgie, shaking him gently.

“G-g-,” he’s interrupted by a need to cough again, he takes a deep breath, “Georgie it’s time t-to wake up,” he croaks.

 

Georgie opens his eyes slowly and sits up, “Stan says you gotta stay home,” are the first words out of his mouth.

“I d-dod’t care what S-Stan says,” he replies plainly, “c-combe on and get ready for school,” he adds gently. 

“But Billy, you sound sick, I mean you are, but if you sound it it must be bad,” Georgie tries to reason as he gets out of bed.

“I’m finde,” Bill sniffles, “I’m fine,” he repeats on his way out of Georgie’s room.

Georgie sighs, “Whatever you say.”

“G-georgie, you’re sick t-too but you feel good edough to g-go to school,” Bill says accusingly, like the tone Georgie had used on him.

Georgie just puts on his clothes and brushes his teeth and hair. He walks down the stairs to Bill in the kitchen, who is making toaster waffles like usual, along with coffee for himself. He puts Georgie’s waffles down on the table wordlessly, so Georgie sits and gets to eating. Bill sits down too, he felt he needed to. He continues to sit in silence, taking sips of his steaming coffee. It’s weird, he thinks to himself, It burns my tongue but makes the burn in my throat feel better and makes me feel less freezing. He decides to keep drinking it then, he’ll deal with having a burnt tongue later.

“Hurry up, you’ll miss the bus,” he says, thankful for the coffee when it doesn’t sound so garbled by his sore throat. 

Georgie finishes quickly and slides out of his seat, pulling on his shoes. Bill grabs Georgie’s winter coat instead of his fall jacket, handing it to the small blonde.

“It’s getti’g c-cold,” he explains, despite only wearing a sweatshirt himself.

Georgie nods and pulls on the coat, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. Bill leads him outside with a hand on his shoulder, they walk out just as the bus pulls up. Georgie runs to it with a quick wave to Bill. Bill smiles and waves back, walking inside because he’s already shivering in the early-winter air. He finishes his coffee and grabs his keys before getting back outside and into his car. He starts the car, turning on his regular music and pulling out of his driveway. He turns up the heat a few notches and drives down the road. 

When he arrives at school, Mike is just walking in. Mike turns to the sound of a car pulling up near him to see Bill’s car. Shaking his head he walks over to Bill’s door as he gets out of the car.

“Bill, Stan told me about last night, you really shouldn’t be here,” Mike says in a pleading voice, rubbing Bill’s back when he’s standing.

“I’mb okay,” Bill cringes at the fact that the effects of the coffee had already worn off and his voice sounded like he’d swallowed gravel yet again. Bill shuts his door and locks the car, shrugging Mike’s hand off his shoulder.

Mike furrows his eyebrows, “Bill,” he sighs, pressing his palm to Bill’s forehead, “You’re warm, you should really go home, baby.”

Bill moves away again, “Humands tend t-to hold heat, Bichael,” talking too much triggers a coughing fit which he muffles into his elbow like he always does, he whimpers at the feeling but still walks in the school doors.

Mike sighs in frustration and grabs Bill’s hand, “Bill, that’s gotta hurt, you really need to rest,” Mike half begs.

“Mmf,” Bill complains as he pulls Mike to his group, who’s slowly gathering in the same place in the hallway as always.

Stan sees Bill walking over and gives him a death glare, “Bill. No. You’re going home.”

Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his spot, Richie grabs his hand and looks him in the eye reassuringly. 

“I cad’t, I mbissed a d-day already th-this week,” He rubs at his arm.

“Yeah Big Bill, for your little bro, and now you’re the one who isn’t looking so hot!” Richie exclaims, touching Bill’s forehead with his free hand, “But you’re feeling pretty hot, yowza!”

Bill falls backwards a little in an effort to avoid Richie’s slap to his face. He rubs his fingers to his eyes to try to alleviate the pain settling behind them. 

“Bill, we all know this isn’t just about missing class,” Ben speaks up quietly. 

Beverly shoots Ben a look that says, don’t say anything else.

“W-what?”

Ben obviously didn’t catch the look, “When you actually let yourself stay home that one time, Georgie went missing for a week, you’re scared something bad if you let yourself rest, but you need it Bill, we can’t let you hurt yourself like this,” Ben analyzes, matching what everyone was thinking to a T.

Bill looks down, “I w-would maybe g-go hombe but I have a psych test l-last hour,” he says dejectedly, feeling like a disappointment to his friends.

Stan looks at the floor, “Did you at least take something?” He goes into a mother hen mode of sorts, making himself the third person that day to touch Bill’s face. “Feels worse than yesterday, Billiam, I really do think you need to go back home,” he rubs Bill’s arm gently, realizing he’s the only one there who knows about what’s under his sleeves.

Everyone looks surprised at Stan’s immediate change to being a caretaker. It wasn’t something they’d expect out of him. Bill pulls the neck of his hoodie up to his mouth and coughs dryly, which makes Stan frown further.

“If that gets worse throughout the day, I’m driving you back to my place and you’re not leaving until you’re better,” he says sternly.

Bill sighs, not planning to accept defeat but not willing to argue right now. The bell rings and everyone starts to go off to their own classes, Mike walks Bill to his homeroom. After getting Bill in his seat he goes back down the hall to his class, narrowly escaping being late. 

Bill stays in his seat, putting his head on his desk and almost falling asleep before his name was called for attendance, the girl next to him tapped his shoulder so he could call out a meek “here”. He thanks her before putting his head back down and closing his eyes, not hearing anything before the bell rings. By the time he’s gathered his things and gotten out of the classroom, Stan was waiting outside the door to make sure he was okay.

“Y-y-you’re really overr-reacti’g,” Bill mumbles when Stan says he’s going to walk him to english.

“You have a fever and you always push yourself way too far,” Stan shrugs and grabs Bill’s hand. 

“Y-you get that if y-you stay so close to mbe you’re g-gonnda get sick, right?” Bill says worriedly as they walk to English.

“Not if I’m careful, I’m going to wash my hands an insane amount and I haven’t kissed you on the mouth or anything,” Stan explains what he’s planned out.

“Y-you’re so stubbornd,” Bill sighs, clearing his throat and sniffling, “please b-be careful.”

“Are you admitting that you feel that horrible?” Stan asks cleverly.

“Ndo, ndo, I just d-don’t wandt you t-to get sick that’s all,” Bill lies.

“Excuse my French, Bill, but you sound like shit.”

Bill pauses for a moment, surprised that Stan would swear, “I kndow.”

“I wish you’d go home,” Stan and Bill stop outside Bill’s english class, grabbing his other hand and looking at him with pleading eyes.

Bill looks down, “F-fide,” Stan looks suddenly taken aback at his submission.

“Oh, uhm okay, let’s go to the nurse then.” He says logically, “At least get you the excused absence.”

“W-why’d you p-put so mbuch pr-pressure on mbe?” Bill questions from the stressed word in the sentence.

“You’re not going home like this alone?” Stan says as if it’s obvious.

Bill sighs, “But th-then you mb-mbiss class too,” he argues.

“I’m just going to drive you home, then I’m coming back because you better just get in bed and sleep, I will find out if you don’t,” Stan says threateningly, “I’ll probably come back after school too.”

Bill just sighs and leans a little on the shorter boy, “I l-love you.”

“I love you too, dumbass.” Bill pauses to cough into the neck of his hoodie for a moment, “and when I come over, that’s coming off and is getting washed.” Bill groans and stares at the floor when they near the office.

“He’s got a fever, I’m gonna drive him home,” Stan says immediately to the woman at the attendance desk, who doesn’t argue.

Stan signs both their names on the sheet of paper and leads Bill to his car. He drives the two back to the Denbrough house. Bill gets out of the car and unlocks the front door, walking straight to the living room couch.

“No. Bed,” Stan commands.

Bill begrudgingly gets up and walks up the stairs, keeping a heavy hand on the railing. Stan follows close behind. When they get to Bill’s room Stan looks around, How in the heck did he get it messier than it already was last night? he thinks to himself. Bill climbs into his bed without much fight, Stan starts pulling off the hoodie and Bill whimpers.

“Bill, you’re going to get too hot and it’ll make your fever go up more, just get comfortable under the blankets without it?” He half pleads and continues to pull it off. He finally pulls it off his arms to reveal more long sleeves anyways, “See? You’ve got those at least.”

Bill curls up into a ball like he had last night and Stan grabs the thermometer that he had left on the bedside table. He hands it to Bill who complies by putting it under his tongue. Stan sits on the side of the bed and grabs it when it beeps. 

“It went up point-six since last night, you really shouldn’t have gone to school today, babe,” he sets it back down on the bedside table.

“I j-just tend to r-rund hot dond’t worry,” Bill mumbles and grabs his pillow, hugging it to his chest. 

Stan runs his fingers through Bill’s, now sweaty, hair, “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

Bill doesn’t say anything, sniffling quietly and trying to get comfortable. Stan ruffles his hair one more time before explaining that he really has to get back to school but he’ll be back at three.

Stan hadn’t thought about a ride back to school, he just takes Bill’s car back to school, signing back in. He quickly walks to his English class. He slips in quietly and hands his teacher his pass. He sits between Richie and Beverly. 

“Where were you Stanthony? I missed you,” Richie jokingly bats his eyelashes like a damsel in distress. 

“I took Bill home,” he says plainly, getting out his notebook to copy down the notes.

“He actually let you?” Richie asks incredulously, since he’d never known Bill to do anything like that.

“After a little convincing, yeah,” Stan says, writing the information on the board.

“He really does love you,” Beverly cuts in, “Enough to listen to you, he’s never like that.”

Stan nods and keeps writing, “Richie, could you drive Georgie home from school today? I’ve got Bill’s car and I don’t want him driving anyways.”

“Yeah, you got it, Stan The Man,” Richie slaps Stan’s back.

They let Stan get back to copying the notes, knowing he probably doesn’t want to be distracted any more. Lunch comes along and they all gather their things and go to the school library for lunch.

_Billiam to Losers Club GC, received at 9:27 a.m._  
Billiam: Hiiiiiiiiiii  
Billiam: Im rly bored and cany sleeo 

Stan frowns at the messages, “Is he seriously that sick that he can’t type like a normal person?” He mumbles to himself.

Stan sits in the corner, in the seat he usually would sit next to Bill in. Richie sits in his normal seat too.

“Heyyy Stanny boy, Bill acting weird to you?” he asks right away.

“Yeah, it’s only a little concerning though, he’s tired and alone and is probably wishing he were here honestly,” Stan assures himself more than Richie, “He has a fever too so that could explain it maybe.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Ben says, sliding into his chair.

“I’m gonna go back to his place after school, don’t worry he’ll be alright,” Stan still has 

the marks on his arm stuck on his mind, he wishes he hadn’t left him alone even after seeing that, he doesn’t want to leave him alone ever again if that was a possibility of what would happen.

“Good idea,” Eddie joins them, “Text me if you need help,” he adds carefully.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Stan responds gratefully.

“I’m coming too,” Mike said, sitting in Bill’s normal seat next to Stan.

“That’s what she said,” Richie snickers.

They all sigh, and Beverly walks in later than the rest, “What did Richie say now?” she laughs.

_Billiam to Losers Club GC, received at 11:17 a.m._  
Billiam: I donr feel good :(  
Staniel to Losers Club GC, received at 11:30 a.m.  
Staniel: I know Bill, did you take anything?  
Billiam to Losers Club GC, received at 11:31 a.m.  
Billiam: Don’t have anythung  
Staniel: I’ll get you something before I come back later, then. 

Stan turns back to the group, “Hey, Eddie, you’re in Bill’s psych with Wood right?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?” 

“Can you get me the homework for him? I know how he’ll feel about getting behind.”

“Yeah got it.”

“Thank you.”

For the rest of lunch they forget about Bill being gone mostly, he’s been quiet in lunch anyways. The bell rings again, prompting Ben to go to the gym class that usually had Bill in it, already worrying about who he would be partners with that day.

The day goes by slowly and Stan grabs the homework from Eddie that he needs for Bill and meets up with Mike at his locker. 

“Thanks for coming with,” Stan smiles at Mike, glad he wouldn’t be alone with Bill who’d probably be asleep right away.

“It’s my job as his other boyfriend right?”

“I guess,” Stan shrugs and turns his full attention back to the road.

They pull up to the Denbrough house, getting out and grabbing the spare key to get in. Stan grabs Mike’s hand automatically, leading him up the stairs to Bill’s room. They open the door to see him sitting with his back against the headboard of his bed, reading. When the door opens he looks over.

“Hi?” He questions hoarsely.

“Hey,” Stan says with a soft smile, seeing Bill mostly okay comforted him.

“Hey, Bill, how are you?” Mike asks as soon as he walks in, both he and Stan walking over to Bill’s bed, they each seat on one side of him.

“T-tired,” he coughs into the neck of his shirt.

Stan looks over to see Children’s Nyquil on the bedside table, “Did you take some of that? It’s not ideal but it would help, and would probably be why you’re tired,” he rationalizes.

Mike rubs Bill’s back comfortingly, “Y-yeah I took some, d-double the kids d-dose I think?” Bill thinks back.

Stan’s eyes widen, “You don’t just do that!?” He half screams before he remembers that Bill’s head probably hurts, “Sorry,” he says quietly.

Bill shrugs, “well I did, and d-dond’t feel insanely bad.”

Stan pulls him close, “You need to be careful with meds you know?” Stan asks, holding him in his lap at this point.

“I’m s-sorry,” Bill whispers to Stan’s chest, Stan runs his fingers through Bill’s hair again, holding him firmly.

“It’s okay, I just want you to actually feel better.” Stan anticipates a response but Bill has fallen asleep on his shoulder. 

“And he’s out cold,” Mike notices, rubbing his arm.

Almost at just the word cold, Bill shivers, Stan slides under the covers, laying down with Bill. He holds Bill close to his body to help him stay warmer. Despite still being asleep, Bill starts coughing again. Stan winces because it sounds like it hurts, he rubs Bill’s chest with the arms looped around him.

“Poor babyyy,” Mike draws out and lays in front of Bill, facing him, “That really sounds horrible.”

“I know,” Stan still curls his fingers through Bill’s hair, “At least he’s not as hot as before,” Mike nods.

There’s a door slam downstairs, “I’m ho-ome!” Is called from downstairs from no other than Richie, who had just brought Georgie home.

Mike slowly detaches himself from Bill and scurries downstairs, “Shhhh,” he shushes Richie as Georgie sits himself on the couch in front of the T.V..

“What?” Richie stage whispers.

“Bill literally just fell asleep,” Mike whispers, “You should just go home, it’s not gonna be any fun here,” he adds.

Richie nods, “Later George!” He half shouts on his way out.

Georgie waves disinterestedly, for he is already too busy picking what to watch on Netflix. Mike says a quick hello to Georgie before running back up the stairs. He walks into Bill’s room to see Stan still holding Bill close, arms around his waist and head in his neck. Both boys had fallen asleep.

“Awww,” Mike coos at his boyfriends, curled up and looking small.

Stan, being a light sleeper, opens his eyes slowly and removes his head from the crook of Bill’s neck, “He’s really warm. We gotta take his temperature,” were the first words out of his mouth, not moving himself in order to keep Bill asleep as long as he can.

Mike grabs the thermometer off the bedside table where it had been left earlier that morning. He puts it in between Bill’s already sleep-parted lips and under his tongue carefully. He feels bad because he knows Bill was probably breathing through his mouth because it was too hard through his nose, but making sure he wasn’t overheating too much is more important. He almost got away with it before it beeped and Bill opens his bleary eyes.

“Sorry,” Mike smiles apologetically.

“‘S fide,” Bill slurs and closes his eyes again while Mike checks the number.

“One-hundred and one, point eight,” he reads slowly, “That’s pretty high?” Mike looks to Stan for his opinion, he wasn’t sure of himself.

“Lowest it’s been,” Stan says quietly, since he is still right up against Bill’s back.

Mike frowns, “Sorry I haven’t been so helpful until trying just now.”

“It’s okay, I took it upon myself anyways,” Stan assures, “You know how you can help though? I want to wash his sheets and that hoodie of his his, they’ve got to be gross, and clean fabric will probably generally feel better.”

Mike nods, “How do I help then?”

“Just like..” Stan trails off, thinking of what he could do until he eyes the armchair in the corner, “just relax with him I guess, he needs sleep,” he gestures to the couch he had been eyeing.

Mike, being as strong as he is, pulls Bill into his arms, carrying him bridal style to the navy blue armchair, sitting and situating Bill so he has his face in his shoulder, “Overdosing on Nyquil really conks you out, doesn’t it?” Mike jokes quietly, stroking Bill’s arm, “Didn’t you want the hoodie too?”

Stan is taking pillow cases off pillows and gathering blankets and sheets, “I’ll do that in a later load,” he realizes he shouldn’t take Bill’s long sleeves when he has no say in it. He’s not even sure if there’s more than he saw the night before, he doesn’t know how often he does it or anything, he hasn’t dared to ask.

Mike nods and watches as Stan winces as he touches the sheets that probably haven’t been washed in a good bit. Stan takes the bundle of laundry to the laundry room, he already knows how to use the Denbroughs washing machine so he sets it to wash the sheets and blankets before walking back to Bill and Mike. 

“His parents come back tomorrow,” Stan thinks out loud, “I wish he could have spent his days without them feeling better,” Stan continues, Mike agrees.

Georgie walks in, “What are you two doing here anyways?” he stands in the doorway.

“You big brother is a big stupid sometimes,” Mike explains half jokingly.

“Oh, true,” Georgie says, unfazed due to how Bill already talks about himself, walking in and sitting on Bill’s bare mattress. “He’s gonna get you guys sick too, he’s too touch-ey,” Georgie adds.

“I personally have an excellent immune system,” Mike boasts, Bill stirs at all the noise, he hugs Mike tighter and frowns.

“Shhh, he’s a light sleeper,” Stan avoids the topic entirely. “Georgie, do you have homework?” Stan asks, trying to switch the situation.

“No,” Georgie said truthfully.

“How about that show you were watching?” Mike brings up.

“Oh, Yeah!” Georgie shouts, “I’m gonna go watch, okay?” He stands in the doorway of Bill’s room.

“Good idea,” Stan says when Bill stirs completely awake again.

“I g-give up od sleep-ping,” he sniffles, “I f-feel gross I’m s-sorry.”

Mike rubs Bill’s back slowly, “Baby, sleep is important, especially when you’re sick.”

Bill groans, forcing him to cough uncomfortably into the neck of his hoodie.

“See? That sounds really bad and like it hurts, you don’t want to be awake for that,” Stan tries to reason, rubbing the hair around Bill’s temples.

Bill puts his face into the crook of Mike’s neck, “I’m gr-gross and sweaty and I d-don’t need your help, I j-just need to p-p-p-push th-through it,” he slurs.

The washer beeps in the background, “I’m going to go do that, okay Bill?” Stan asks.

“I sh-should, it’s m-my house,” he complains and starts to get up from Mike’s lap.

Mike holds him close, “No, keep me warm,” Bill relaxes a little.

“B-but it’s m-mby chore to do,” he complains, getting comfortable again despite his words.

Stan goes and moves the wash to the dryer, having to empty the dryer first, Of course he didn’t finish last time he did it, he thinks to himself. He starts the dryer and goes back to Bill’s room to find Mike playing with Bill’s hair and Bill mostly calm and still.

“Hey Bill? You should take a shower, you’ll feel better,” Stan says, knowing that feeling sweaty and gross will just undo the effort of having fresh sheets.

Surprisingly, Bill nods, “Okay.” He stands up, this time Mike lets him. “I’ll pr-probably be out in like tend mindutes,” he makes a face of disgust at his own voice.

Bill grabs a thin shirt and boxers to put on after. He grabs a towel from the linen closet and heads to the bathroom. Stan and Mike sit in an awkward silence.

“We have the most stubborn boyfriend,” Mike comments.

“Correction, you have two very stubborn boyfriends.”

Mike laughs and they both get out their phones finally, waiting for Bill to come back. Bill takes a while to come back, but he does return, in the shirt and boxers, sliding around in some white socks. When Bill walks in Mike goes silent, seeing Bill’s arms. Stan does too, he can tell there’s new marks from even last night. Stan elects to continue to ignore it, grabbing Bill’s dirty hoodie and putting it in the wash. He goes back to Bill’s room, grabbing Bill’s hand wordlessly, Mike follows close behind.

Stan takes Bill to the sink in the bathroom, running his arms under the cool water.

“I’ve alre-ready rindsed th-themb, it’s fide,” he fights verbally but lets Stan continue.

Stan grabs the disinfectant from the medicine cabinet, Bill winces as it burns down his arm. Then Stan gets out a half full tube of neosporin, carefully applying it, not missing anything. He finally grabs the Spiderman bandaids from the cabinet, there were normal ones, but he decided that Bill needed something cheerful. He puts the bandages on the deepest seeming ones just to be safe. Mike watches silently the whole time, near tears. Throughout the time, Stan is making normal conversation with Bill, about school and the day he’s had. He wants to keep it relatively normal.

“I’m going to go get your sheets from the dryer,” Stan informs once he’s finished.

Mike stops leaning against the bathroom wall and grabs Bill’s hand, “You know I’m always here for you, right?” he asks worriedly.

Bill nods and walks back to his room, waiting for Stan. He looks at his digital clock, it reads 7:09 P.M.. He doesn’t feel like it’s been that long but he did sleep through a lot of it. Stan comes back with a bundle of sheets and blankets.

“Crap,” Stan whispers sharply, “I didn’t go buy proper medicine like I said I would, crap,” he remembers.

“I can,” Mike immediately volunteers, “I’m here anyways, and you seem to have got it.”

Stan nods gratefully, “Please?”

“Of course.” Mike leaves the room quickly to put on his shoes, calling back upstairs, “I’ll be there and back, ten minutes.” Mike leaves and Stan and Bill are left in a slightly uncomfortable silence.

“Th-thangk you f-for… Everythi’g I g-guess,” Bill says quietly, “I’mb s-sorry I dond’t cooperate.” he adds, clearing his throat when the end comes out raspier.

Stan goes about making Bill’s bed for him, when Bill tries to help Stan pushes him away lightly, “I’ve got it, I’m worried about you.”

Bill sits on his armchair again, this time sitting up. Stan finishes making the bed and walks over to to the chair, standing over Bill and grabbing his hands and pulling him up. He leads him downstairs.

“Hey Georgie, it’s time for you to go to bed,” Stan says, kindly but firmly.

Georgie whines but looks at the clock and complies, saying a quick goodnight to his drowsy-but-awake brother and Stan.

“Bill, sit,” Stan softly commands.

Bill sits on the couch and Stan sits next to him, wrapping the two of them in the blanket draped over the couch. Despite being taller than Stan, Bill tends to make himself the smaller one when they cuddle. He sits in Stan’s lap, his head in the crook of Stan’s neck. Stan grabs the remote, browsing for a moment before deciding on ‘Parks And Rec’. The familiar theme plays and Bill brings his hands to his chest, bringing himself extra warmth. Stan realizes that Bill’s sweatshirt is probably done in the dryer.

He shifts from under Bill who whimpers sadly, “L-leabing mbe al-already?” He croaks.

“Bill, no, I’m just grabbing your hoodie from the dryer, I’ll be back in a minute.” Stan says quickly, feeling bad for making his boyfriend think he was abandoning him.

He runs quietly up the stairs and grabs the hoodie and runs back down with it in his hand, “You, you seemed cold.”

Bill takes the hoodie, “I w-was, thangk you,” he pulls on the hoodie, still dryer warm.

Stan sighs, Bill looks more emotionally comfortable too, with his arms covered. He pulls Bill back into his lap and for a while they just watch the show in a comfortable quiet. The only noises being the television and the sound of breathing, the occasional cough coming from Bill until it stops and he’s fallen asleep again. Stan smiles as the ragged breathing evens out slightly. Bill drools a little on Stan’s shirt, which he finds gross but endearing. Mike walks into the house with a Walgreens bag.

“I uh, I didn’t know exactly what to get so I got a few different kinds,” he shrugs and sets the bag on the table.

Stan smiles at the thought, “That’s a good thing, we’ll at least be set for next time if we don’t need all of them this time.” Stan grabs the bag carefully, not moving enough to wake Bill again, He pulls out a decongestant and a gross looking cough syrup, “I know these ones work.” He speaks from experience. 

“Hey, hey, Bill? Can you wake back up for me? I’m sorry but I want you to have medicine one more time before you actually sleep,” Stan whispers and shakes Bill lightly. Bill stirs awake but puts his arms tighter around Stan.

“Mmm, t-tired,” he groans.

Stan pushes Bill to the spot on the couch next to him carefully, “medicine first, then your real bed.”

Stan measures out the cough syrup and pours out two pills from the bottle of decongestant, Mike runs to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Stan hands Bill the pills first, pressing them to his palm and Mike handing him the glass of water to his other hand. Bill takes the pills both at once and takes a gulp of water. Then, Stan hands him the cap of blue cough syrup. Bill makes a face of disgust.

“I’mb, I dond’t w-wandt this.”

“You have to, it’ll make you feel better, sweetie.”

Bill gulps back the medicine, taking a drink of water to wash away the taste and coughing until he was red in the face at the sudden contact of things with his throat. “S-s-s-sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay, shhh,” Stan runs circles in the center of Bill’s back, “You should go to bed.”

“It’s d-ndot even eight o-o’clock,” He whines, leaning into Stan.

Stan pushes himself up, reaching his hands out to Bill who uses them to stand, “You’ll get better if you sleep more.”

Bill nods, agreeing with the logic even if he doesn’t want to. The three walk upstairs to Bill’s room. Bill slips under the covers of his bed, thankful for the clean sheets since they feel nice on his skin. He’s tired and drugged up but he feels warm inside because he knows his boyfriends really care about him, he feels safe. Stan slips under the covers next to Bill, wrapping his arms around his middle from behind. Bill hums in comfort and MIke climbs under the blanket and lays on his side as well, facing Bill from the front. Bill cuddles into both of them.

“Thangk you guys,” Bill whispers before closing his eyes. Stan and Mike both fall asleep eventually, Stan thankfully remembering to slide out of his binder before drifting off.

None of them had turned off Bill’s alarm so it blared loud at five in the morning as usual. They all awake groggily, not having moved from their position due to the closeness of it. Bill starts to say something but his voice crackles painfully. He pushes himself to sit up and coughs into the neck of his hoodie. Stan sits up slowly and rubs his back comfortingly.

“Hey, hey, breathe, just breathe,” Stan speaks reassuringly.

Mike sits up too, moving some of Bill’s hair from his face. Bill finally catches his breath and lays back down with an “oof”. 

“William? Was that you?” came Bill’s mother’s sharp voice from downstairs, she and his father had gotten back earlier this morning.

There’s footsteps on the stairs and soon his mother is standing in the doorway and flicking the light switch to reveal Bill being cuddled between his boyfriends.

“What the hell?!” came his mother’s shrill yell of surprise, leaving Bill rubbing his temples and Mike and Stan going silent. “William, why are your friends here?”

“S-sorry mom,” his voice comes out a rough croak and he rubs his eyes.

“An apology isn’t an answer, William.”

“He wasn’t feeling well, we wanted to help,” Mike interjects.

“He can take care of himself, he’s nearly 18 for God’s sake!”

Stan collects his thoughts and holds Bill protectively to him, “He had a really high fever Mrs. Denbrough, we were concerned.”

“William, what were you doing with a _girl_ in your bed?” Bill uncovers his eyes to reveal a look that would kill if looks could.

“M-mom, stop.” 

Stan looks down, almost crying, “I’m sorry, Bill, I gotta go,” Stan fumbles out of the bed, grabbing his binder and his shoes, his jacket still downstairs. “Text me later,” he calls on his way out the door.


End file.
